The Second Time Around
by InspiredByLemons
Summary: Picking up where we left off in 'Any Love'... Bound by employment responsibilities, Edward's and Bella's brief romance is torn apart. But fate has other ideas in store for them.


****A/N: This is a follow-up to my earlier o/s 'Any Love', which was published in February 2011 and is available via my ff dot net profile. If you haven't **read 'Any Love', I urge you to do so prior to reading this story.**

**I submitted this story as part of the Project Team Beta 'Back to School Fundraiser' - please consider checking out PTB and donating to the fundraiser if you can!**

**Special thanks go to my fabulous betas, WoodLily and LoriAnnTwiFan. They continually give me thoroughly amazing feedback, and without them I would seriously doubt my ability to write. Huge thanks also to 17foreverlisa, who designs the most amazing banners, despite my need to be particular about stuff!**

**Do check out my profile for links to all of them - they are more than deserving!**

**As always, Stephenie Meyer owns the rights to all things Twilight. However, since I'm really only using the names of Edward and Bella, I'd be inclined to say that I have nothing to fear. Once again, the locations are all real...**

* * *

><p><strong>The Second Time Around<strong>

**By ChloeCougar**

* * *

><p><strong>S<strong>**unday**

The airport is unusually crowded this evening.

I smile instinctively as I spot the object of my obsession in the throng, but a split second later, I realize that smiling is the last thing I ought to be doing—under the tragic circumstances. She's moving toward the departure gate and—_Goddammit!_—I realize in an instant that I won't be able to get to her in time. Panic sets in.

I hear the authoritative tones of the flight announcer advising travelers that the eleven fifteen to London Gatwick is ready for boarding. _Shit! She's going!_ My stomach flips with dread.

_No no no no no__ no no! This can't be happening. Please, Bella, turn around…_

But, it's too late. I watch as she gets caught up in the slipstream and propelled toward passport control.

A lump forms in my throat.

I'm temporarily paralyzed, unable to comprehend what has just happened—what happened last night—how I've come to be standing here feeling so wretched.

"Eddie?" I hear Liam's soft Irish lilt reach me above the cacophony in the departures lounge. "Are you okay, man?"

"Huh? What?" I feel completely disoriented, as though time itself has stopped for a moment. I'm rooted to the spot.

"You're looking a bit distracted; what's up?" Liam continues, and he places one of his huge, freckled hands on my shoulder.

Liam and I have been meeting at Athens airport every weekend for the past three years. He's based on Santorini at the moment and is loving every minute of it. It's a beautiful island, but way too busy for me. Agistri has, and always will have, a special place in my heart—especially now I've been able to share it with the most beautiful woman I've ever been fortunate enough to meet.

Bella. She's leaving.

"Sorry, Liam." My eyes widen with determination as I stare at him. Thrusting my clipboard into his chest, I decide in that instant that I have to try to get to Bella before she boards. "Do me a favor, yeah? Hold this for a moment?"

I don't wait for his response. Instead, I push my way urgently through the waiting tourists, noting only on the periphery that Jane, my supervisor, is glowering in my direction. I know I'll pay for this later, but right now, I don't give a damn.

Reaching the barriers that separate me from the airside area, I scan the backs of those who are making their way to the various boarding gates. Only a handful of the duty free outlets are still open as far as I can see, and somehow I can't imagine Bella taking her time to shop before embarking on her journey home. My heart is racing. _Pleasepleasepleaseplease…_

And then I catch a glimpse of her, way, way ahead of the rest, her head lowered as she pulls her carry-on alongside her.

"Bella!"

I want to vault the bars that impede my progress, ignoring the scowls that are quite obviously being directed my way from the passport control staff. There are only three of them—I could easily take them on if I had to.

_God! What am I thinking? This could cost me my job!_

"Bella…" The futility of my actions is apparent. She's way too far ahead to hear my voice above the chatter of the other travelers. _Why won't she look back?_

Her petite form grows ever smaller as she walks farther and farther away from me, her vision obviously trained on what lies immediately ahead of her. She doesn't look to her left or right. She isn't enticed by the final offerings of cheap booze, cigarettes or electrical goods. The Tie Rack store remains ignored, as does the store offering mass-produced Greek souvenirs—most of which were probably manufactured in the Far East. She walks alone, her head bowed, back into her own version of this world.

I watch with a heavy heart as she finally disappears around the corner.

She's gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Monday<strong>

"Passengers for Aegina and Agistri, please make your way to bus number ten. Bus number ten for Aegina and Agistri."

_I'm so very, very tired of calling this out every Monday morning. __Thank God we're nearing the end of the season._

Liam was a rock last night. He noticed almost immediately that all was not right with me. As he handed me my clipboard back, he made sure to look me right in the eyes—something I don't think he's ever done—with anyone—ever before.

"You need to talk; you know where I am."

I hadn't wanted to take him up on his offer, but in the lull between departures and arrivals I found myself in such a pitiful state of desolation, I simply had to offload on somebody. He turned out to be exactly the person I could rely on to shoulder the burden of my emotional diarrhea. Over strong Greek coffee, he listened as I poured my heart out for the first time in years. He didn't judge; instead, he patted me on my shoulder and told me it would all turn out right. Oh, and he saved me from the daggers that were headed my way via Jane's acerbic stare.

It's inevitable that she's going to give me a hard time, so I just need to keep my head down, go through the motions, and get this season over with. _Only another three weeks…_

* * *

><p>"So, Edward," Jane has cornered me just as I'm about to board the ferry. "Are you ready to explain last night's behavior?"<p>

I feel my hackles rise as she speaks to me; her condescending tone has always rubbed me up the wrong way. I'd thought I could deal with it by staying away from distractions and toeing the line. Unfortunately, I hadn't been prepared for the fact that I would fall head over heels in love with one of my _clients_.

"I'm sorry, Jane," I respond innocently. "What behavior are you referring to?" I usher the last of this week's passengers onto the ferry.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," she hisses. "I expect a full report of this weekend's activities in my Inbox by seven this evening." She turns on her unnecessarily spiky heels and stalks off in the direction of the other waiting buses.

_Great. This is just what I need right now. A __twelve hour shift behind me, and the boss wants a fucking running commentary._

* * *

><p>Four in the afternoon. I've managed to grab maybe five hours of sleep, if that. But I'm used to it. The weekend exchanges are always the worst—twelve hour shifts; endless queries; the expectation that we can make accommodation and resort changes happen at all hours of the day… and night.<p>

You'd think I would be accustomed to the rhythm, and perhaps I was—once. But after five years of 'repping', I think I've reached my lowest point—my nadir—so to speak. I just don't think I can do it any more.

I miss real life. I miss knowing what's going on in the world and feeling a part of it. I only ever get a glimpse these days, and as I grow older, that glimpse simply isn't enough.

Sure, I get to go 'home' between seasons. But 'home' isn't mine—it's a room in my parents' house. I own nothing. I could have put a deposit down on an apartment, but what was the point? The thought of purchasing a property I didn't have the time to view, then renting it out to a faceless individual, really doesn't appeal to me. _I'm just not cut out for the whole property business._

I re-read Jane's email to me.

**From: **Jane (janev at aegeanbliss dot com)  
><strong>To: <strong>Edward (edwardc at aegeanbliss dot com)  
><strong>Date: <strong>13 September 2010, 10:59:30  
><strong>Subject: <strong>This Weekend

Edward, I need you to give me a full report of the departures and arrivals of this weekend, with details of any complications, alterations or unexpected occurrences.  
>Please respond via email by close of play today.<br>Jane

_Fuck!_ _Just NOT what I need! How am I meant to respond to that?_

I sit back against the hard frame of the sofa and run my hands through my unruly hair. I can't decide whether to send her a short—and suitably vague—response now, or whether I should compose a lengthier explanation once I've showered and shaved. I'm half-tempted to tender my resignation right now, via email, and leave her to pick up the pieces. That would show her—she'd never be able to cope.

The summer season usually slows down at this time of year, but the record temperatures we've been enjoying of late are encouraging tourists to keep on coming. Jane would fall at the first hurdle; I know it. An image of her begging me to stay flashes through my thoughts, but is quickly replaced by a more realistic picture. I see her slamming down the lid of her laptop and hitting the speed-dial on her cellphone, calling head office to ensure my chances of a decent letter of recommendation are all but scuppered. That's just the kind of vindictive thing she would do, and frankly, I've grown tired of it.

Sighing, I decide to avoid a knee-jerk reaction to her demands. It would be unprofessional of me to respond the way she is challenging me to, and I refuse to give her the satisfaction of ruining my career and, potentially, my future.

_Only three more weeks. Just suck it up. You can do it._

My silent pep-talk skids to an abrupt halt when I notice the half-empty glass on the coffee table before me. _Oh God, Bella…_

She'd accepted my offer of Metaxa on Saturday evening, agreeing to my suggestion to have it mixed with Coke. But she hadn't got round to drinking much. While she'd busied herself in the bathroom, I'd taken the opportunity to straighten my bed and create what I'd hoped would be an inviting atmosphere in the bedroom—I was nothing if not optimistic. I'd had no idea whether she would follow me in there when I beckoned her, but I'd had to try—I couldn't have let the opportunity to spend the night with the most beautiful woman I'd ever set eyes on pass me by.

I feel a surge of emotion as I remember her rising from the sofa and walking toward where I'd been standing in the doorway.

_She looks beautiful. From the sundress skimming her curves__, to her flowing chestnut hair and innocent, brown eyes, I can barely believe my luck. And what follows… Oh God, it's more than I ever could have wished for. Her body—so flawless and supple. Her lips—so soft and yielding as we kiss and caress one another; as she slides down my body and takes me into her perfect mouth._

I shudder with renewed desire as I walk in a daze to the bathroom—remembering the wondrous sensations she elicited from me—and I become acutely conscious of the fact that the memories of that night have given me an erection.

* * *

><p>Emerging freshly showered, shaved, and…um… relieved, I enter my bedroom to prepare for this evening's 'Welcome Meeting'. I yawn again and rub my now smooth chin, reaching absentmindedly to the back of the chair for a towel. I'm temporarily confused when my fingers meet soft fabric instead of scratchy hotel-issue terrycloth. In the dim light of my bedroom, I pick up the garment and am immediately assaulted by the scent of the perfume Bella wore the night before last. Her cardigan. She must have left it by accident.<p>

Sitting heavily on the bed, I raise the cashmere to my face and inhale deeply. _Oh God, Bella._ The scent of the clothing floods my senses, conjuring images of her standing in front of me in the candlelight, nervously waiting for my next move. I reach out instinctively to touch the vision before me, desperate to pull her warm body to mine, but my fingers grasp nothing but hot, heavy air. Swallowing with difficulty, I attempt—and fail—to rid myself of the lump that has formed in my throat.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

The insistent beeping of my alarm clock brings me to my senses. It's five 'clock, and I really need to make a move if I'm to get this damn email written to Jane before heading over for the welcome meeting. Fortunately, I have only four couples in Milos this week, all of whom appear to have visited Agistri before, so I'm pretty sure they won't need much input. I secretly hope that my counterpart in Skala is as fortunate—I really don't want a repeat of last week's issues. _Why does Jane keep placing inexperienced staff in the busier resorts?_

Eventually finding a towel, I hastily rub at my hair in an attempt to dry it as much as possible and tame the uncontrollable mess. It desperately needs cutting, but I'm trying to wait until my return to the UK—the island's barber seems to know one style, and one style only—crew-cut. As much as that's welcome in the heat of the summer, I know I'm going to have to get used to much cooler temperatures when I get back home.

_Home. Bella will be home by now. I wonder…_

Once dressed, I check my watch and mutter a curse. I should be at the hotel by now. I glance briefly at my laptop, realizing that I simply don't have the time to respond to Jane before I leave—at least, not if I'm to give her the detail that she needs. Not that there _were_ any _complications, alterations or unexpected occurrences_. None that I want to tell her about, anyhow. I grab my paperwork and head urgently out of the apartment.

* * *

><p>"Here are your tickets for the Beach BBQ, and these are for the day trip to Aegina." I hand four tickets over to the older couple before me. "Are you sure that's all you're interested in today?"<p>

They seem pleasant enough. He's got the air of a retired colonel about him—a thick head of grey hair and full moustache—I almost expect him to pull out a monocle from his breast pocket. She looks elegant—almost regal—with her silver hair twisted into a knot at the back of her head and discreet diamond studs in her earlobes. I have a fleeting image of them traveling in a chauffeur-driven Bentley, along a tree-lined avenue, to their stately home deep in the Cotswolds.

"That'll be all for now," he replies, a little too loudly. "I expect we'll see you later in the week if we want to book anything more."

I nod, and glance to the doorway. A week ago, Bella had entered the hotel bar around this time, and our first magical evening together had begun.

This week, the figure in the doorway is of an altogether _un_welcome kind: Jane. I sigh as I begin to gather my paperwork.

"Edward." She clacks across the tiled floor in her inappropriate footwear and stops in front of me, pursing her lips. Her stare is beyond icy. She taps her watch impatiently and points to my paperwork. "I'm assuming you haven't quite finished for the evening."

"Almost," I mutter, knowing exactly where this is leading. It's seven-thirty and, frankly, I'm ready to shut down for the evening with a cold beer.

Jane exhales audibly, and I ignore her as much as I am able. Gathering together the last of the week's itineraries, I head toward the bar. Christos and Beverley, the hotel's proprietors, are more than happy for me to help myself, so I reach into the refrigerator to grab a beer.

"Amstel?" I ask, gesturing toward Jane. I already know that she'll decline.

She turns away, her chin jutting into the air in a defiant gesture, and I know, instinctively, that I'm fucked.

"I guess not," I murmur, popping the top off a freshly cooled bottle. I take a swift swig of the amber nectar. "So, what can I do for you this evening?" I attempt to remain casual, trying desperately to dissipate the charged atmosphere.

"Edward," Jane begins. "You had strict instructions, both in person and via email. I fail to understand why you're questioning my presence here."

_Okay, cut to the quick, why don't you?_

I return to the table that is laden with my paperwork, planting the bottle of Amstel audibly upon it.

"Jane." I begin. "I realize you were waiting for a response from me. But, to be honest, I simply haven't had the time." I know full-well that this is _not_ going to calm her.

"Then make the time," Jane responds caustically. "I'm not prepared to wait any longer." She shakes her head in an effort to loosen the hair that is sticking to it in the overpowering humidity.

"Your job is at stake here, Cullen," she continues. "If there is any hint of inappropriateness—of any kind—you'll be on the next plane home. You realize that, don't you?"

_For fuck's sake! I step__ out of line, once. Just once—in five years!_

"Yes," I duck my head in shame, thinking all the while that Jane is acting unnecessarily harshly. _I've so had it with this place._

"I'll put a report together just as soon as I get back to my digs," I reply.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday<strong>

No email.

I hit 'Send and Receive' in one more futile attempt, but nothing is forthcoming.

_Did she even make a note of my email address? _I wrack my brains, wondering whether or not I gave her my contact details—personal or otherwise. _I guess not._

Luther is serenading me from the iPod dock in the corner of the room. I feel the urgent need to change to a different album—a different artist, even. Every single track I hear reminds me of her.

And then I do what I vowed to myself I would never do: I reach back into my paperwork stack and pull out the data-sheets that hold all of Bella's details. It's wrong, oh so wrong, but I can't help myself.

I scan the data hungrily, figuring that, if she won't contact me, then I have no alternative.

_I'm __so sorry, Bella, I have to do this…_

Her details spring out at me from the third page in the stack:

**Name: **Isabella Marie Swan  
><strong>Contact Details:<strong> c/o Lillith Publishing, 47a Marchmont Street, London WC1N 1AP  
><strong>Email: <strong>swanb at lillithpublishing dot co dot uk  
><strong>Date of Arrival: <strong>05/09/10  
><strong>Date of Departure:<strong>12/09/10  
><strong>Accommodation: <strong>Hotel Nontas, Milos, Agistri  
><strong>Special Requests: <strong>None

I attempt to commit the details to memory while typing her email address hurriedly into the 'To' field in my email application.

"Bella," I begin. And I stall. _How do I start this? What do I want to say?_

I sit back heavily, the lumpy cushions failing to soften the blow. It's been a long day, and although I had no takers on the Hydra and Spetse trip—and therefore didn't need to go along—I'm feeling truly exhausted. The season has dragged on this time. I feel so ready to jack it all in. _Enough is enough._

My eyes wander back to the screen just as Luther begins to croon his next track…

_It's the middle of the night  
>And I can't sleep at all (I'm so uptight)<br>Tossin' and turnin' is how I've spent the time  
>I've got so much on my mind...hey<br>Something's got a hold on me  
>I think it's love, don't you agree?...(It's got to be)<br>I don't feel better  
>I know what I've got to do<br>I've got to get next to you  
><em>

_Oh God, how fuckin__g appropriate…_

And then my thoughts simply flow through my fingers onto the screen. I pour it all out—my loneliness, my desire to see her again, my aching sadness at her departure, my despair. I can't stop myself; it's as if a dam has burst and all of the emotions I've stored up over the past five years are oozing from every pore of my being. _Oh God, Bella, I want you so.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday<strong>

My email remained unsent. Wisely so, I think. But, as I wrap the ropes around their hook on the boat, I contemplate my next move. I _must_ contact her.

"Cullen!" A familiar voice assaults me—the _Colonel_ and his wife—Mr. and Mrs. Newton, as they're actually known—are booked on today's "Beach BBQ", and I think I sense from his tone that he's not pleased. I look up, donning my best "How can I help you?" smile.

"Cullen!" he repeats, approaching me along the deck. "Good to see you, young man."

I nod, attempting to work out in advance what extras he and his wife might require.

"How are you this morning?"

I'm temporarily taken aback by his question.

"Um, fine, thank you, sir," I respond, straightening up to address him. I don't ever remember a guest asking about _my_ well-being before, and I feel quite disarmed.

"Excellent," Mr. Newton replies, hitching his shorts. It's apparent that he's really not used to traveling so casually. "All set for today's trip?"

"Um, yes, sir," I answer, a little confused. "Are you and your wife settled?"

"I believe we are, young man. You'll be joining us?" He turns to his wife and reaches out to steady her. She's looking quite the picture of the _continental traveler_ in a flowing kaftan, wide-brimmed sun-hat, and oversized sunglasses.

"Indeed I will, sir. I like to make sure our guests receive the best possible service during their trips."

Out of the corner of my eye, I'm convinced I notice Mrs. Newton's brow rise—almost imperceptibly.

The captain chirps on his whistle, signaling to the crew that we're about to set sail. Although the sun hasn't yet reached its zenith, I can tell that we're in for another scorching day. Fortunately, there are enough spots on deck where guests can find shade. I, on the other hand, am looking forward to soaking up some rays and maybe going for a swim in the azure Aegean Sea. I'm hoping that it'll take my mind off things…

* * *

><p>My index finger hovers over the left mouse button for a second before I finally bite the bullet and hit "Send". There. I've done it. No turning back now. It's ten in the evening, so that must make it eight in the UK—she probably won't pick my email up until tomorrow. <em>I sincerely hope she isn't working this late…<em>

I rise from the sofa to fix myself a drink, flicking the iPod on as I do so. _Damn! I really need to put this thing on 'shuffle' or something!  
><em>

_I just wanna tell her  
>She's the girl of my fantasies<br>How we meet in my dreams every night it seems  
>And how love can be, I wanna love you<br>I'm gonna be your love  
><em>

As I pour a generous measure of Metaxa over ice, I contemplate my future. The end of the season is approaching—just two more full weeks to go, once this week is out of the way—and I know for certain that I really can't face doing this any more.

It's not that I don't enjoy the work; I do. And the perks of being able to live relatively cheaply throughout the summer, along with the endless sunshine, are what have kept me coming back every year for the past five seasons. I'm also fortunate enough to work for a sister-company during the winter months, and I've thoroughly enjoyed the opportunities I've had to improve my skiing in some of the most spectacular locations on earth. I'm particularly fond of Banff…

But there's this nagging feeling that I'm missing out, and that my old friends and acquaintances are all moving on and settling down, while I'm suspended in a parallel universe, populated by faceless individuals who all seem to want something from me. _This must be what it feels like to be a celebrity. You're constantly out there for public consumption, while never having a stable base from which to operate._

Shaking my glass gently to mix the brandy with the ice, I return with a sigh to my perch on the sofa. I figure I'll shut the laptop down and play my guitar for a while before heading to bed.

My eyes are immediately drawn to the tiny yellow envelope in the system tray on the bottom right-hand side of the screen. My heart begins to race even before my hands have reached the mouse, and I realize that my mouth has gone dry as I restore the email application.

My vision blurs momentarily as my brain attempts to compute the uppermost unread email in my Inbox.

**From: **Bella Swan  
><strong>Subject: <strong>Re.: Hello

Oh my God. She's read—and more importantly—responded to my message.

I swallow uncomfortably, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. Reaching for my glass, I take an uncharacteristically large gulp of brandy and almost choke on that instead. Coughing, my eyes watering, I attempt to click on the email and fail miserably, opening the one below it by accident.

**To The Discerning Gentleman Only…  
><strong>For men who want bigger, longer-lasting erections click here for the product that works!

_Fuck! Get out of the way! Out of the way!_

I'm all fingers and thumbs as I navigate my way back to my Inbox and click on the email that _really_attracts my attention. I hunch forward and read:

**From: **Bella Swan (swanb at lillithpublishing at co dot uk)  
><strong>To: <strong>Edward Cullen (eacullen at gmail dot com)  
><strong>Date: <strong>15 September 2010, 20:15:40 (GMT)  
><strong>Subject: <strong>RE: Hello…

Dear Edward,  
>I don't know what to say. I'm pleased—really pleased—that you emailed me. And I miss you too. But, and please don't take this the wrong way, I'm just feeling so muddled right now. I didn't want to leave…<br>Bella x

_Shit. Shit! Oh God, I _knew_ I should have worded my message differently._

I stand in a hurry and pace around my little room. _God, I just want to _punch_ something right now! How could I have been so utterly, utterly stupid?_

_I have to speak to her. I can't do this via email—it all comes out wrong. _

Hastening to my laptop, I hit "Reply".

**From: **Edward Cullen (eacullen at gmail dot com)  
><strong>To: <strong>Bella Swan (swanb at lillithpublishing dot co dot uk)  
><strong>Date: <strong>15 September 2010, 22:17:00  
><strong>Subject: <strong>RE: Hello…

Bella,  
>Are you home? Can I call you? Please, let me call you.<br>Edward xx

I tap my fingers impatiently on the table top, willing her to grant me permission. The seconds tick by… I'm just preparing to send another message, when a new, unread email appears at the top of my Inbox. _Bella, pleasesayyespleasesayyes. _I open the email to find just one line—a line of numbers, beginning with 0044. _Halleluljah!_

Reaching nervously for my cell, I'm a jittery bundle of nerves as I enter the string of numbers into the keypad. It takes a moment for the call to connect, and then I hear the familiar ringtone of a UK phone. It rings only twice before Bella's breathless, dulcet tones are in my ear once more.

"Hello?"

"Bella? Oh, Bella, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I almost weep into my cell, desperate to convey the sincerity of my apology. "I called after you, but… you didn't hear."

There's a moment of silence at the other end of the line, and then I hear it: a distant sniffle, a faint clearing of the throat. _Oh God, I hope she isn't _with_ somebody right now. That would just be… well… awkward._

"Bella?"

"I'm here, Edward." I almost fall apart at the sound of her voice. "I'm, um, sorry too. I had to leave; my flight was announced. You looked, um, _busy_." She whispers that last word, and I wonder whether that's what she really means to say.

"My sweet, I was. I mean, I was busy with work, and I had my supervisor breathing down my neck all evening—all night, to be perfectly honest. But none of that matters now. It's all just a sorry excuse. I _should_ have made time for you; should have said goodbye properly…"

"It doesn't matter…"

_What does she mean?_ I suddenly notice a sickly feeling beginning to emerge in my gut. _Maybe it didn't mean that much to her after all?_

"It does to me," I murmur, and the nausea worsens. I realize that I have to tell her how I feel, right now, regardless of the consequences. "Bella, I miss you…"

I raise my eyes to the ceiling, silently begging some higher power for inspiration. But I find myself tongue-tied—unable to utter another word. Groaning with frustration, I listen out for a response. Instead, I hear another sniffle.

"Are you, um, are you crying?"

Sniff. "No…" Sniff.

"Honey, talk to me. What's the matter?" The urge to protect her from whatever is making her cry sweeps over me. "Why are you crying?"

Sniff. "Edward, I…" Her voice is timid and so very far away right now. I hear her take in a deep breath before she speaks again. "I didn't want to leave. I miss you too…" And with those final, four words I am completely undone. _She misses me!_

My elation, however, is short-lived, as she continues. "Oh, God, this is all such a mess. I never wanted this to happen. I wasn't prepared. I, I…" Her voice trails off.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so, so sorry," I interrupt. "If I'd have known that I would make you feel like this, believe me, I'd have done everything within my power to stay away from you. But I was dazzled by you. You captured my heart—I couldn't possibly resist. It was wrong. _I_ was wrong. I should never have done this. How can I make it right again?"

"Edward, stop." She is regaining her composure, and I can almost picture her holding up a hand to silence me. "It wasn't just you. I was part of this too. I _wanted_ it to happen, and I have no regrets. Do you?"

"God, no!" I exclaim, shocked that she can even contemplate regret. Yet I know that I'm about to contradict myself. "I regret nothing, other than the fact that I couldn't stop you from leaving."

"I have a job, Edward, a house. I _had_ to leave…"

"I know," I sigh. "I just wish we'd had more than a week…"

The unwelcome sound of my service provider chirps in to our conversation, reminding me that I'm fast running out of funds. _This is going to be one hell of an expensive call._

"Bella." My tone is urgent. "I'm running out of credit here. Do you use Skype?"

"What? Um, yes, but not here in the office…"

_She's still at work?_

"Can I call you via Skype then, say, tomorrow evening? Or later, maybe?"

"Yes, Edward. Yes, you can. But let's leave it until tomorrow, huh? It takes me an hour to get home from here. And, um, it must be pretty late in your part of the world… I'll email you my Skype details."

"Tomorrow then," I sigh, my emotions playing see-saw with my insides. "Nine o'clock GMT okay with you?"

"I can't wait." Bella's breathy tone causes my dick to twitch, and I become acutely aware that I'm once again sporting a hard-on. _At this rate I'm gonna develop RSI…_

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday<strong>

I sign in to Skype and add the details that Bella has sent me via email. Her status shows as 'offline', so I decide to fix myself a drink. I don't know yet what kind of contact we'll have. Will it be instant messaging only? Might she be connected for a voice call? Better yet, will she have a webcam? My mind races, imagining the possibilities of the latter.

Ten fifty-five, and the first Metaxa of the evening is warming my insides nicely. I pick up my guitar and strum for a while, waiting for my sweetness to come online. The first few chords of a new piece begin to emerge. _Hmmm, this'll be dedicated to Bella._

I refresh the screen, just in case I've missed something, but it remains static. _Bella, please, don't make me wait too long…_

I strum a little more, the chords taking shape. It's a melancholy melody with a hint of hope—not too many sharps or flats, I think. Just enough to make it sound… right. To me it embodies all of my thoughts about her—my elation, my longing, my love…

A flicker of movement in the System Tray catches my attention, and I look closer to see the Skype alert icon appear. She's online! Abandoning my guitar, I hastily click on the application and check out her status… She's using voice messaging! The surge of adrenaline that shoots through my body leaves me reeling.

I right-click her icon and select 'Call'. _Oh God, pleaseanswerpleaseanswer…._

"Um, hello?"

"Bella? Can you hear me?"

"Um, yeah! I've never used the voice-call feature before. Can you hear me?"

I can see her beautiful picture before me—she's uploaded a recent one as her avatar. _My God, she's beautiful…_

I attempt to swallow the lump that has formed in my throat. "I can hear you, loud and clear. Do you have a webcam, sweetness?"

"Um, yes, but I don't know how to use it…"

"Don't worry, baby. We'll work that out. Oh, God, how _are_ you?"

During the course of our conversation, I manage to help Bella work out how to switch on and use the webcam facility. As her profile turns from static image to webcam view, I'm transported to another universe entirely.

"Baby, can you see me?" I ask hesitantly, unsure about whether my webcam even works. I've never really tried it out and, frankly, my laptop could do with a major upgrade.

"Oh God, Edward, yes. Yes, I can…"

"Baby…" I'm at a loss, my senses completely and utterly overloaded. She sits before me, nervously fiddling with her hair. I can't make out the background, other than it's dark. Her face is lit with the glow of the screen before her. She looks beautiful.

"Bella," I try again, but my emotions are causing the thoughts in my head to jumble. "You look beautiful." _Shit! Is that all you're capable of saying?_

She blushes, lowering her head in the briefest of gestures. "Um, you do too…" I watch as she reaches out toward the screen, and I find myself mirroring her actions. Our fingers meet virtually on the display, and I briefly close my eyes, remembering when my fingers touched hers only days ago…

* * *

><p><strong>Friday<strong>

_I'm standing at the end of the jetty when I see her. She's running, fast__, her chestnut mane flowing out behind her, and she's calling to me. I drop my clipboard and open my arms wide, preparing to hold her. As she approaches, I see that she has a concerned expression on her face._

"_Bella?" I whisper. "What is it?"_

_She reaches me and flings her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist, causing me to stumble. She's burying her face into my neck, sobbing uncontrollably. "Don't leave me, don't leave me…"_

I wake with a start, bathed in perspiration, my bedclothes in a heap on the floor. My heart is still racing and—_God Almighty!_—I'm sporting a morning wood. _What was all that about?_

Turning to check my alarm, I register that it's seven o'clock, and time I got up. I need to be at the jetty at eight-thirty for today's day trip to Aegina. _The jetty…_

Standing in the shower, letting the powerful jets pummel my shoulders, I lean my head against the cool, tiled wall. My hand snakes down my abdomen, and I grasp my ever-present erection. This has become quite the norm this week—I don't think my shower has ever seen such regular jerking-off action. But, with Bella on my mind twenty-four-seven, I can't seem to keep things under control. Especially not after last night's conversation…

Once again, I'm transported back to Saturday evening, and the image of her standing before me in her matching bra and panties floats before my eyes.

_Stunning. From her long, soft, fragrant hair__ to her beautiful, dark eyes, to her luscious, full lips. My eyes skim over her delectable body, taking in the fullness of her beautiful breasts, the soft, feminine curve of her hips, her long, lean legs, all the way to her delicate toes and burgundy-painted toenails. Sheer perfection._

_Bella, my love…_

Leaning against the wall for support, I begin to work my erection to the vision before me, wishing all the while that it was her hand, not mine. My climax is fast and powerful, and I watch with bittersweet relief as the product of my lust-filled fantasy spurts into the steaming water.

* * *

><p>"Cullen!" Mr. Newton and his wife are already waiting at the jetty when I arrive, and I surreptitiously check my watch. Relieved when I realize I'm not late—they're simply early—I greet them with a smile.<p>

"Good morning, sir, madam." I nod at them politely and make my way toward the ferry. "I'll be with you in just a moment."

"Yannis!" I call out to the captain. "I have only two passengers today."

He nods back from his perch on the bridge. "Is good, Mr. Edward," he calls back. "Tell them they can board."

Turning back to Mr. and Mrs. Newton, I notice that they are deep in conversation, so I decide to wait politely to one side until they're done. They're not quite out of earshot, and although I know it's rude to eavesdrop, I can't help overhearing him saying something along the lines of, "My mind's made up, Celia. I vote we put it to him." Mrs. Newton nods, her eyes shifting briefly in my direction.

Their conversation seemingly over, I saunter up to the couple and check my clipboard. "The Captain says you're free to board, if you wish," I explain. "You're booked on the five o'clock return ferry, so you'll have plenty of time to enjoy the sites in Aegina."

"Are you coming too?" Mr. Newton inquires.

"I'm sorry, sir, not this time," I reply. "I've been asked to help out in Skala today—it's the rep's first season there, and she's still struggling a little with the paperwork." I smile with embarrassment.

"Ah, in that case, young man," he hastily checks his watch. "Can we arrange to meet with you on our return? Six-thirty, perhaps, at the Café Ness?"

_Oh no, they have a complaint. Why have they waited all week to tell me?_

"Absolutely, sir, but if you'd like to give me an indication of what it is you'd like to discuss…"

"No time, young man. No time," he replies somewhat enigmatically. "We'll talk later." And with that, he gently grasps his wife's elbow and assists her along the gangplank onto the waiting ferry.

_This is going to be a very long day…_

* * *

><p>I arrive back at my apartment shortly before six, just in time to freshen up before my meeting with the Newtons. It's been another scorching day on the island, so I change into a clean work shirt after splashing my face with cold water and attempting to flatten my wayward hair. <em>God, I need a haircut<em>, I think for the umpteenth time this week. It refuses to be tamed, and since I'll be donning my helmet in a moment, anyhow, I decide to try to ignore it. I hope to God the Newtons can ignore my five o'clock shadow.

I reach the Café Ness at six twenty-five and notice with relief that I've made it before Mr. and Mrs. Newton's arrival. If they have a complaint, then it simply wouldn't do to have them wait for me. I order a Greek coffee and seat myself in the shade—it's been in the hundreds today, and I doubt the Newtons are the kind of people who like to roast themselves slowly.

I hear Mr. Newton before I see him, as he makes a beeline for the waiter to order a bottle of their finest Sauvignon Blanc, along with another of sparkling water. While waiting, he turns and scans the tables before peeking at me over the rim of his sunglasses. "There he is," he says to his wife, while gesturing in my direction.

Mrs. Newton approaches—all floaty chiffon and understated jewelry. "Mr. Cullen," she murmurs.

I stand swiftly and pull out a chair for her to sit, and then wait for her husband to join us. When he does, we reach out simultaneously to shake hands. He has a firm grip.

"Cullen," he greets me brusquely. "Manage to get the business in Skala sorted out?"

I'm momentarily taken aback by his directness. This isn't normally something I'd discuss with a client. "Ah, um, yes," I stammer. "Pretty much, thank you, sir."

"Excellent, excellent," he replies almost absentmindedly.

The waiter interrupts us, placing three large wine glasses, a small plate of olives, and the bottles of wine and water on the table. I automatically reach forward to push the wine glass away—I never drink while on duty—and am shocked when Mrs. Newton places her hand gently on mine in a bid to stop me. I look up with a quizzical expression on my face.

"You may wish to rethink that," she explains.

I'm still puzzling over her sentence when Mr. Newton begins his speech.

"Cullen," he announces. "There have been a number of complaints…"

_Oh God. In the plural—there's been more than one. He said 'a number of complaints'. Fuck my life, what have I done now?_

"Sir?" I attempt to retain a semblance of composure while, inside, my stomach is doing somersaults.

"Yes, quite a number," Mr. Newton continues, seemingly oblivious to my torture. "And my wife and I are here to try to put things straight."

_Wait—what? How could _they_ put things straight? I don't understand._

"Darling," Mrs. Newton interrupts, leaning forward to gently touch her husband's forearm. "Just get to the point."

_Yes! Get to the goddamn point—please!_

Mr. Newton looks temporarily flustered, and then he leans forward conspiratorially and beckons me with his index finger. Despite everything, I lean forward too.

"It's Jane," he whispers.

_Oh, dear Lord. There IS a God! Yes! Yes! Yes! _I want to fist-pump the air, hug them both, run a victory lap around the island.

"We've had so many complaints about her behavior, we just had to come and see for ourselves."

_Wait. What did he just say? Who__ the_ _fuck _is_ he?_

"Um, sir," I begin tentatively. "I'm sorry, but who exactly _are_ you?"

Mrs. Newton raises her eyebrows and stares at her husband with an expression that implies, "I told you so."

"What?" he asks, confused. "You mean you don't know who we are?"

And all of a sudden, it all falls into place. Their familiarity with the island, their name—_I knew it rang a bell, I just thought it was a coincidence_—their demeanor. _Of course_ they'd know about the island—and the other islands in the Saronic Gulf. Suddenly, the letterhead of our company stationery swims before me—**Aegean Bliss Ltd., Registered: 543225 London, 4 Battersea Park Road, London SW8 4AA, Owners: J & C Newton.**

_Oh. My. God. They own the company. And they're here to put things straight; they've identified Jane as a problem._

"Mr. Newton," I respond with caution. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I gaze intently into his eyes.

He sits back and looks temporarily baffled. "I thought you knew, Cullen," he says. "Don't tell me you didn't know…"

It's my turn to look flustered, and I'm not entirely sure how to respond. Gut instinct gets the better of me, and I decide to be completely honest and up-front.

"Um, sir, madam." I turn briefly toward Mrs. Newton. "I'm sorry if I appear, um, in the dark here. It just didn't click. I thought you were just regular clients…"

Mrs. Newton smiles enigmatically. "I told you so." Her murmur is directed toward her husband. "Mr. Cullen, what my husband has said is true. We _own_Aegean Bliss, and we're here to sort things out. Quite a number of things, in fact."

* * *

><p><strong>Monday<strong>

I can't believe the pace with which the last couple of days have passed. Jane has been 'dismissed', in other words, sacked, and I'm having to contemplate the offer that Mr. and Mrs. Newton have made me. It shouldn't be a wrench, but knowing that Jane will no longer be a thorn in my side is making me reassess somewhat.

My evening's Skype session with Bella solidifies things, however. She seems no happier, even now that we can have nightly conversations and, if truth be told, nor am I. I particularly missed speaking with her last night when I was working on the weekly transfer run.

We log on earlier than usual this evening. It had been Bella's suggestion, knowing that I would be exhausted after the long overnight shift.

"Honey, you look so sad," I begin, reaching out to trace her beautiful face on the screen.

"Oh, Edward," she replies softly. "I don't know. It's just, it's getting dark so much earlier in the evenings now, and… you're so far away. I don't know how much longer I can take that."

I toy with idea of sharing the news of the Newtons' offer, but since I haven't yet come to a decision, I hesitate, not wanting to give Bella false hope.

"Bella, sweetness, the season will be over in a couple more weeks and I'll be flying back to the UK. That's not too long, is it?"

She pauses a moment, biting her lip in a way that sends shivers of desire coursing through my body.

"I guess not," she eventually replies. "When will you get back?"

"Two weeks from today." I smile, excitement welling up inside me. "May I come and visit you?"

"May you? _May_ you? I _demand_ that you visit me!" Her face lights up, and then a wicked gleam appears in her eyes. "I might not let you get away…"

And with those few little words, my mind's made up.

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday<strong>

The email reply I receive from Mr. Newton is unexpected.

**From: **James Newton (james dot newton at aegeanbliss dot com)  
><strong>To: <strong>Edward Cullen (edwardc at aegeanbliss dot com)  
><strong>Date: <strong>22 September 2010, 10:35:20 (GMT)  
><strong>Subject: <strong>RE: Your Offer

Mr. Cullen,  
>My wife and I are delighted to read that you have accepted our proposal, and we would like to get the ball rolling sooner, rather than later. Having checked itineraries for next week, I see you have only one couple staying in Milos. I suggest therefore that we have Kate look after them during their stay, and that you liaise with her regarding this during the next couple of days. I will be forewarning her via email, and have every confidence that she can cope now that we've made some very necessary staffing changes.<br>To this end, I will arrange for you to return on Sunday's flight along with your current clients. Your accommodation here in London will be as discussed, unless you care to make other plans—our Knightsbridge apartment is yours for as long as you require.  
>Please report to our office on Tuesday 28th to sign your amended contract. I shall be available from lunchtime onward.<br>Thank you for taking time to consider our offer. I look forward to having you here as my right-hand-man.

Regards,

**J. Newton Esq.**  
><strong>Managing Director, Aegean Bliss Holidays Limited.<strong>

A week early. A week early! _Oh God, a week early!_

My mind races as I contemplate the million-and-one things I need to do before leaving the island. Looking around my tiny apartment, I try not to panic as I imagine Bella's reaction to my news. I begin to picture her face when I tell her during this evening's Skype session, and then suddenly, I can't bear the idea of not being able to take her in my arms and hold her close when I tell her. Out of the blue, a sneaky thought enters my mind, and I find myself smiling wickedly at my idea.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday<strong>

"Thanks, Liam." I pull him into an awkward man-to-man hug in the busy departures lounge. "I promise I'll keep in touch. And if you're ever in London…" I have no need to finish my sentence; Liam knows he will always be welcome in my home.

He shakes his head again. "Can't believe you've landed such a gig, man," he chuckles. "Big-shot Cullen, lording it up with the Managing Director. You deserve it, man, you really do."

I smile, knowing that Liam really means what he's saying. And he knows I'll treat him well when I've settled in at Head Office.

"Look after yourself." He pats me on the back. "And go see that beautiful girl of yours—first thing. You're onto a winner there."

"I fully intend to." I nod as I pick up my battered guitar case and carry-on hold-all. "Take care, buddy."

* * *

><p>I'm too nervous to sleep during the overnight flight. We land at London Gatwick at one o'clock in the morning, and I finally unlock the door of the Newtons' Knightsbridge apartment at three a.m., though my body thinks it's five.<p>

Throwing myself fully-clothed on the king-sized bed, I drift off, my mind swimming with thoughts of Bella…

* * *

><p><strong>Monday<strong>

It's dull outside when I wake, and I can hear rain pattering on the streets below. I have no idea what time it is. Stretching, I contemplate how best to fill the time before I put my plan into action. _Coffee first. That's what I need…_

A few hours later, I check my watch for the umpteenth time and boot up my laptop. Launching Skype, I make sure I'm marked as 'offline' before sitting back to watch the screen, strumming absentmindedly at my guitar while sinking into the luxurious sofa. Having showered and shaved and made a half-hearted attempt to jerk off in the rather fancy shower stall, (I failed miserably; I was feeling way too nervous about my plan), I'm surprised to find that I still feel pretty exhausted from the journey. But I can't let that stop me now.

At seven o'clock on the nose, a pop-up appears on screen telling me that Bella has logged on. I'm aching to speak with her again, but hold back, knowing that I need to stay offline if my plan is to work. If my calculations are correct, it should take me no longer than forty-five minutes before I can hold her in my arms again, and since she's logged on, I know she's at home.

Discarding my guitar on the sofa, I lock my laptop and shrug into a warm overcoat. Exiting the apartment, I raise my collar against the chill and the rain, and make my way toward the nearest tube station. _I'm coming, baby. Ready or not!_

* * *

><p>Bella gasps audibly and grips the door frame until her knuckles whiten, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.<p>

"Edward," she whispers. "Oh my God. Edward!" Her mouth breaks into the hugest smile as she opens the door wider with one hand, her other clasped to her chest.

She's beautiful. No, stunning. No, beau… _whatever!_ I can barely contain my excitement. I'm grinning from ear to ear, like the cat that got the cream.

What follows is a frenzied mass of lips, tongues and hands. Bella pulls me over the threshold, deftly kicking the door shut behind us, and fists her hands in my hair. I can feel my pulse racing, and—perhaps rather predictably—an erection beginning to develop, as we explore one another hungrily. It is, quite simply, bliss.

After what seems like an ecstatic eternity, we slow down, and I pull back to observe her at arm's length. Her hair looks darker than I remember, and her tan is fading, but there's no mistaking that she is still astonishingly beautiful—even more so in the flesh. I can't seem to wipe the grin off my face.

"My God, Edward," she stammers. "You almost gave me a coronary!"

I drop my head a little with embarrassment, and then gaze into her beautiful brown eyes. "I'm sorry," I murmur. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Well, you certainly achieved that!" She turns, then, and guides me along the narrow hallway to the room at the end. We enter a warm, softly-lit kitchen-cum-breakfast room with weathered pine fittings and terracotta-colored walls. Steering me toward a bench seat by the window, she reaches up into one of the wall cupboards and extracts two long-stemmed wine glasses. I can't take my eyes off her beautiful body as she reaches down to a small wine rack nestled between the units, waggling her fingers as she contemplates which bottle to choose.

"Have you time for some wine? Shiraz?" she asks, pulling a bottle of Australian wine from the rack. "This one's pretty special…"

I'm temporarily dumbstruck as she approaches the table in front of me. _She clearly has no idea how much I'm enjoying the floorshow._ "Shiraz is just fine," I whisper.

Reaching out, I steal the corkscrew from Bella's hand and reach out for the bottle. "Here, let me," I offer in an attempt at chivalry.

She blushes—_oh, how I have missed that—_and passes the bottle to me, then begins to fidget with the glasses. "Are you, um, hungry? How much time have you got? Is this…?" She stops mid-sentence, suddenly self-conscious about her stream of questions.

"Bella," I begin, wondering how much to say at this point. I realize that I really don't know anything about her circumstances right now, and I don't want to put my foot in it. "I'm free all evening and would be honored if you'd consider spending it with me. Obviously, if you already had other plans…"

"Gosh, no," she interrupts. "No, I didn't have any plans. None. Whatsoever. All evening?" The faint flicker of lust that crosses her features doesn't go unnoticed by me, and I can almost feel the surge of adrenalin as it floods my bloodstream. _God, yes, she wants it too…_

"All evening," I confirm, and my mouth turns into a lazy grin.

* * *

><p>Two glasses of delicious red wine later and I'm feeling decidedly mellow. Bella is nestled against me on the bench, our backs supported by oversized cushions. With my arm draped around her shoulders, I am able to play gently with her hair, teasing and smoothing it in equal measures. She smells beyond delicious to me, musky and sweet all at once. She spears another olive from the plate of mezze she has hastily put together and lifts it to my lips, tempting me with the salty offering. I'm temporarily embarrassed by the fact that my mind has raced to the gutter once more. <em>I'd rather be sucking on something else…<em>

"So," she begins softly. "You didn't say how long you're here for."

"Uh-huh," I murmur in response. The warmth of the room, the low lighting, the wine, and Bella's proximity seem to be working like a sedative. I tilt my head against the window frame and barely register the fact that my eyes are closing…

* * *

><p>I hear water splashing and realize that it's raining outside again. It's a beautiful sound. I imagine standing under a waterfall with Bella in my arms…<p>

"Edward?"

Bella's inquisitive tone brings me back to reality, and I realize with embarrassment that my mind had begun to wander to places it shouldn't—at least not yet. Even worse, I recognize with sudden clarity that I must have nodded off for a moment. _Fuck my life! She must think me so rude!_

"I'm sorry, sweetness, what did you say?" I brush my hand roughly across my face in an attempt to wake up.

Bella is gazing at me. Her lips are mere inches from mine, and it's all I can do to stop myself from leaning forward to devour her. But I don't want the magic of this evening to be broken by anything—especially not my lust. And I clearly need to make amends for my rudeness. _Take it slowly, man…_

It's only then that I become aware that Bella has changed out of her work clothes, and as she leans down toward me, the silky robe that she has chosen opens tantalizingly, giving me a delicious preview of her décolletage. _My God, woman, you'll be the death of me!_

She licks her lips slowly, sensuously. "I asked," she begins, her voice husky and oozing sex. "If you were going to come to bed with me."

My eyes widen and, once again, I can feel the adrenalin coursing through my veins. My pants suddenly become uncomfortable as my instant erection strains against the fabric. She doesn't need to ask me again…

Rising, I take her outstretched hand and follow her from the kitchen. We climb the stairs, and she ushers me into the dimly-lit warmth of her bedroom. Just as I had done two weeks ago, she has placed scented candles on as many surfaces as she can, and soft music is playing quietly from the stereo in the corner.

_If only I could read your mind__  
><em>_I could heal your broken heart__  
><em>_I could mend you when you're falling apart_

_I wanna love you  
><em>_I wanna care  
><em>_But there's not a thing that I can do  
><em>_Not until you say that you want me there  
><em>_And that you want me to love you forever  
><em>_I know it's what you want  
><em>_Though it's easy to say that you don't_

"God, Bella."_ I must be the luckiest man on earth._

"Edward," she begins, while unfastening the buckle on my belt. "Please, don't make me wait any longer…"

While she busies herself with my belt, I reach out to touch the silky fabric encasing her shoulders. Bunching it carefully in my hands, I gently tug downward, exposing her skin and lightly trapping her upper arms in the robe. The lacy straps of her bra glisten in the candlelight, and I feel the urge to reach down and kiss along her collarbone.

"Baby," I whisper. "I need to taste you…"

Bella returns my gaze, her eyes hooded with desire. She steps back, allowing me to remove my pants, socks and shoes, then steps forward again to unbutton my shirt, her tongue playing sensuously around her lips. Once the last of the buttons is undone, she gently pulls my shirt open, and I watch as she breathes in sharply at the sight of my chest.

"Beautiful," she murmurs, and right at this moment, I feel like a God.

Placing one arm around her shoulders, I lean down and lift her from behind her knees, then walk around to the side of the bed. She leans her head in against my chest, allowing me to cradle her as I kneel on the bed and gently lower her down. Her robe has fallen open just enough for me to get a tantalizing peek of matching lacy panties, and I fear that I won't be able to hold out much longer. _I want to nestle between those soft, smooth thighs!_

And there she lays in my arm, the most beautiful woman on earth, and she _wants_ me. A myriad of emotions surge through me—elation, desire, longing—and I truly believe that she is a gift from the angels.

Carefully, I pull on the bow that is keeping her robe fixed around her waist, and the smooth fabric falls to either side of her body. I pull her closer to me, all the while caressing her wherever I can reach. Her chestnut hair has fanned out on the pillow, framing her beautiful face like a darkened veil.

"Edward," she murmurs. "Please…" And I can hear her breathing begin to accelerate in anticipation, her breasts rising and falling beneath her lacy underwear.

I place a finger on her mouth and gently pull her lower lip down as I reach down to kiss her. Slowly, I snake out my tongue to taste her, and I hiss when her lips part a little wider, allowing me inside. Her tongue greets mine, and we kiss passionately as my fingers begin their journey along her body: her chin, her jaw… that smooth neck. My thumb draws soft circles along her collarbone before I continue further.

When my hand reaches the outline of Bella's bra, her breath hitches, and I temporarily pull away from our kiss and whisper "Sssshhhh," against her lips. My hand sweeps across her breast, and as I feel her nipple harden, I realize I need to change my position.

"Bella, my sweet, I need to move…"

"Oh, Edward, anything… just don't stop. Please. I've missed you so much…" I hear the longing—and the love—in her voice and feel my heart soar.

Carefully, I move to kneel between Bella's thighs, parting them gently while gazing into her dark eyes. _This feels like a dream…_

I reach down to her breasts with both hands this time, brushing them almost reverently through the lacy fabric. But I need more. Slowly, sensuously, I take each bra strap and pull them down her arms, revealing the beauty beneath. _Aaaah!_ I lean down and kiss each nipple in turn, stroking them with my tongue first flattened, then pointed, and marvel at how they harden to tight little peaks. Bella has closed her eyes and is moaning beneath me, her hips moving only fractionally at first, but the movement growing more pronounced as her desire increases.

Propping myself up with one hand, I allow the other to snake down her belly and along her hip bone until I reach the top of her panties. The heat gathering between Bella's thighs is radiating toward my centre, and my erection is almost crying out to be pacified. _All in good time; first it's her turn._

Leaning further down, I place my hand on the outside of the lace and reach between her thighs. I catch my breath as the heat and moisture there assaults me. _Oh God, she is _so_ ready!_

And with that, all intentions of taking things slowly are out the window. I grab Bella's panties with both hands and pull them down her legs swiftly, eliciting an excited gasp from her.

"I can't wait any longer, Bella," I explain. "I have to taste you." And with that, I dip my head between her legs and hoist her thighs up over my shoulders, angling her so that I can explore the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.

With my tongue, I begin lapping slowly at her folds, spreading her moisture with mine and enjoying hearing her moan and mewl quietly at each pass. As my tongue heads up toward the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, I reach up to explore her opening with one of my long fingers, and as I enter her, she gasps with pleasure and pushes forward to accommodate me. Adding a second finger, I continue to lap at Bella's sweet spot, flattening my tongue across it, and applying a little more pressure with each lick. I can feel her juices begin to increase and know that she's building toward her release. The thought fuels my arousal and my boxers grow tighter still.

I decide to change tactic, just for a moment, pushing my fingers further inside her and bending them slightly to find the spot inside that I know will send her over the edge. As I do so, I take her clit between my lips and suck, gently at first, but then with more vigor as she squirms and pants beneath me.

"Edward… I'm… uuuunnnnggghhh!" And with that, she falls apart beneath me, her walls throbbing rhythmically with her orgasm. I keep my fingers in place, enjoying the sensation, and hum against her, the vibrations prolonging her pleasure.

As Bella's breathing begins to right itself, I gently remove my fingers and raise my head, registering for the first time what I'd failed to see during my lust-driven frenzy.

"Well, well, well. You little minx," I murmur, my mouth turning into a lopsided grin. "Turn over, baby…"

Bella's eyes open, and she looks puzzled, but she watches while I step from the bed and reach down to the floor to extract a condom from my pants' pocket.

"Turn over," I repeat. "We're not done…" I drop my boxers and begin rolling the condom onto my swollen member. I feel fit to burst, so I squeeze myself tightly while donning the protection, hoping to quench some of my ardor. It seems to work, temporarily, but when Bella licks her lips and hums as she begins to turn around on the bed, I twitch back to full attention.

"Shuffle back a little, baby," I whisper, and she complies, wiggling her delicious derriere toward where I stand at the foot of the bed. "Now, rest on your elbows."

As she does so, I part her legs to stand between them and am once more captivated by the beautiful sight before me. I gently position myself at her entrance and am momentarily taken aback when she thrusts backward, causing me to plunge deep inside her.

"Aaaahh," we hiss with shared pleasure.

"Easy, Bella, easy." My tone is urgent; I don't want this to be over too quickly. I grasp her hips, and together we find a rhythm, with Bella rocking gently back as I thrust forward.

"Uuungh," she groans, and I can feel her swelling around me, holding me tightly within her. I bring two fingers to my mouth and run my tongue around them as we continue, then I bring them down to her mouth, encouraging her to do the same. As she takes my fingers into her mouth and begins to suck, I feel my orgasm building. _Not yet. Not yet…_

Pulling my fingers from her mouth, I reach down between her thighs and spread her lips apart. I run my fingers either side of her opening, feeling myself buried deep inside of her, and I thrust a little harder. She's almost there, and I want to make sure my plan works.

Circling my fingers around her sweet spot, feeling it swell and harden, I quicken my pace.

"Oh God, Edward, please… I'm so close…"

And this is my cue.

Steadying myself with my shins against the bed, I lean forward and wrap my free hand across Bella's torso, from her left hip up to her right shoulder, and, never ceasing my ministrations to her body, I lift her toward me, so that her back is arched, forcing her beautiful peaked nipples out in front of her. The angle causes me to harden even more, and I begin to thrust faster and harder with every pass. Her face is the picture of ecstasy…

"Open your eyes, baby," I urge, and as she does so, Bella gasps. Looking straight ahead we can both watch our desire unfold as we stare into the mirror hanging directly above Bella's headboard.

"Oh my God!" she cries, as her legs begin to shake. Mine follow suit, and moments later, we explode simultaneously, the waves of her orgasm causing mine to continue longer than normal, until we collapse, spent, at the end of the bed.

I roll on to my side to cup her beautiful face. And I can't help myself. The words just come tumbling out.

"I love you, Bella."

There's a moment of silence, and my heart skips a beat. But then Bella reaches out to brush my wayward hair from my eyes.

"I love you too, Edward."

I close my eyes, and for the first time in five years, I feel I've come home.

* * *

><p>Our lovemaking continues throughout the night, sweet and tender. We sleep a little, but each time one of us wakes, we simply can't bear to refrain from reaching out to caress. As dawn finally begins to break, and the sounds of London grow louder outside, we murmur sweet-nothings, all the while stroking, massaging, <em>loving<em> one another. _This has truly been the happiest night of my entire life._

Bella's eyes close once more, and as she drifts off to sleep, she mumbles something. "Don't leave me, don't leave me…"

"I won't, my sweet," I whisper into her hair. "Never, ever again."

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday<strong>

The alarm wakes us both at seven o'clock, and Bella seems flustered. She apologizes while hitting the off switch, then turns to gaze down at me, her face the picture of sadness.

"I asked you yesterday how long you're here for…" Her lower lip begins to wobble.

I smile lazily and reach to cup her chin. My eyes are still blurry, and I'm having trouble focusing. "I thought I told you…"

"Oh." Bella's response is characteristically timid, and she lowers her eyelids to avoid my gaze. "I actually meant how long you're in the UK for…"

_There's your cue. Don't drag it out any longer._

Her question causes me to wake with a jolt, and I shake my head in an attempt to bring some clarity to my mind. _Focus, goddammit!_ I gather my wits and realize that I really haven't told her anything yet.

"Bella," I whisper, mentally urging her to look up at me. "What would you say if I told you I was back for good?"

Her head snaps up as her eyes widen, astonishment written large upon her gorgeous face. Her mouth forms a tiny 'O' before a single tear escapes and travels down her cheek.

"What?" I ask, and I'm unable to keep the worry from my voice. "What is it, my sweet?" Reaching up, I gently brush the tear away with the pad of my thumb.

And then her face breaks into a huge smile, and she's crying and laughing and shaking all at once. She throws her arm across my torso. "You're back for good? Oh, God, Edward! Yes!" She scrambles up and straddles my thighs, pinning my arms out to either side of me, and I'm temporarily reminded of Meg Ryan in "When Harry Met Sally" as she screams out, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

I lie back, basking in her joy, before suddenly remembering something she'd said before, while I was still in Greece. _"I never wanted this to happen. I wasn't prepared." _ I'm instantly reminded of the way she was still upset about her break-up with Jake, and for a moment I think that perhaps she's not ready for what I have to say.

But, I want her too much to care.

"Bella." I look up at her earnestly, and she sits back on my thighs, a worried expression clouding her features. "Bella, do you think… I mean, I know you said you weren't prepared, but, um…" _Goddammit, man! Spit it out!_

"Now that I'm back for good, would you consider making this, um, a more _permanent _arrangement?" I stammer. "I mean, can we do this again?"

She tilts her head back, revealing her delicious neck, and desire surges through me once more. I hold my breath, awaiting her decision.

Then, as she brings her head forward to gaze down at me, her eyes darkened with lust, I instantly know that I'm going to make sure she learns: "love _will_ be better, the second time around…"

_I wish there could be__  
><em>_The kind of love__  
><em>_Where there would be no wrong __  
><em>_So that heartache and pain__  
><em>_And the misery of a bad love__  
><em>_Would all be gone_

_To get over the first love__  
><em>_Is kinda hard, baby__  
><em>_But, don't let it get you down__  
><em>_Don't you know that …_

_Love will be better, better than ever __  
><em>_The second time around__  
><em>_Love is gonna be better __  
><em>_Better than ever,__  
><em>_The second time around_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please, please, please leave a review! Positive or negative - it's all good :-)**


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